


In the Shadow of a Dream

by GuitarMoogle



Category: Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Drama, Fishing, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25786057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuitarMoogle/pseuds/GuitarMoogle
Summary: The August before the events of Final Fantasy VII, Cid goes fishing to try clear his head.
Relationships: Cid Highwind/Shera
Comments: 9
Kudos: 7





	In the Shadow of a Dream

The cicadas were especially loud in this part of the summer. The only time they stopped singing was during the rocket tests. There hadn’t been a test since the incident. Back then the settlement was bustling. The bustle rivaled the insects and birds in the trees. There were weekly firings of the engines and technicians shouting and music playing over radios. 

Four years later there was a different kind of bustle. The town no longer competed with the forest but existed as part of it. The green rocket jutted above the green treeline and provided shade from the summer sun. The din of cicadas and rustling leaves offset the voices of residents and creaks of the swaying spacecraft. Cid sat in the shadow of the rocket which swallowed the tree trunk that shaded him. 

In front of him was a large pond carved out by the streams running to the northern coast and out to the sea. The waning moon was visible in the late morning sky but had almost completely disappeared behind the Nibel mountains. Beside Cid sat a coffee can full of pond water balanced on an old tackle box. Minnows swam around inside the can, nibbling at the cigarette butts floating on the surface. He reached inside and plucked a minnow out of the water and baited it three quarters of the way to the tail. 

Cid cast his line into the pond about 20 yards out. The red cork bobbed around creating a series of ripples before the water settled back into a slick calm. He tightened the line on the reel and pulled a cigarette from the pack in the strap of his goggles. It was too early in the year for the bigger Nibel trout to be running through their spawning grounds, but summer was a perfect time to catch all kinds of sunfish and smaller trout that would make a nice meal or two. Cid reached into his pocket with one hand and put the cigarette in his mouth with the other. 

“Son of a bitch…”

There was no lighter. When he looked down to search for it he felt a bump on the tip of the rod. The cork had gone out of sight. Before Cid could react to set the hook his cork bobbed back to the surface of the water. 

“Son of a bitch!”

He reeled in the line to check his bait but found only a chunk of minnow meat dangling from the hook.

“Little pecker couldn’t even fit the damn hook in his mouth,” he said aloud, fishing for another minnow. After finally catching one, he baited the hook through the minnow’s head and out the dorsal side to ensure there would be no more bait theft. His next cast was harder, with some extra aggression behind it.

“Let’s see you try to steal this one.”

He looked out over the water again and let his eyes follow the horizon. The moon was out of sight now, obscured by the mountaintops that cut into the sky. The once clear blue overhead had turned gray, blanketed by clouds rolling in from Wutai. Standing, he was able to see the red plastic lighter he had dropped. He picked up the lighter. He lit the cigarette, still in his lips, and took a long first drag. He kept both hands on the reel and tightened the slack and sat down on the bank. Cid took the cigarette between his fingers and exhaled. He watched the smoke fade and blend into the cloudage above. 

In unison, the cicadas stopped. The patter of rain replaced the singing of the insects. The rain plopped around the cork floating in the water that was no longer still. Cid inched back against the tree. At least it’s a light rain, he thought. Nothing is going to ruin this fishing trip.

“Captain,” a soft voice called from his right side.   
  
“Goddammit, you scared the shit outta me.”

“I’m sorry. You forgot your lunch. I didn’t want you to be out here on an empty stomach.”

The woman wore a wool sweater under a white lab coat. Her hair was brown and pulled into a high ponytail with tousled tresses framing her spectacles. A black umbrella kept her hair and glasses dry. Cid didn’t look at her. He stared at the cork at the end of his line.

“Shera, I’m trying to _catch_ my lunch. Or is your head up your ass as usual?” he asked, lips crimping the filter of his cigarette. 

“Alright. I’ll just leave it here in case you need it.”

“Suit yourself,” he exhaled in a plume of blue-gray.

She squatted down and left the Shinra branded lunchbox beside the coffee can. She took her eyes off Cid and gazed toward the mountains. The eastern skies were still clear.

“Quite a moon this morning," she said after a moment. 

“Sure was.”

“It looked beautiful over the Nibel range. I thought about sketching it.”

“So draw the damn thing. Put another tacky picture up on the wall.”

She rose to her feet again and straightened her lab coat. Her eyes wandered down to the pond. She looked back at Cid.

“You know, Captain, I’ve been wondering if we shouldn’t test the water quality in this area. With the rocket tests and fuels burned here—”

“Shit, Shera, you’ve been eatin’ outta the damn river for the past three years and _now_ you’re worried about it?”

“I am. This place is our home now, we should—”

“Our home?” Cid’s tone crescendoed. “This town shouldn’t even fuckin’ exist. This rocket shouldn’t be here. Those shithead people shouldn’t be here. _I_ shouldn’t be here, and you _damn_ sure shouldn’t be here!”

Cid stood up and flicked his half-smoked cigarette into the water. He took two large steps toward Shera. She didn’t move. Cid gritted his teeth. She looked straight into his eyes. 

“But I am here,” she said. “And you’re here. And as long I’m here and as long as you’re here, I’ll…” 

She trailed off and looked at the coffee can on the tackle box. Cid’s eyes narrowed before he turned his back. He pulled a fresh cigarette from the pack beside his head, sparked his lighter, and inhaled deeply. Shera watched the smoke dance around him as he exhaled. 

“The Bronco’s been all fucked up lately," he finally said. “Somethin’s wrong with the propeller system. See what you can do with her.”  
  
“Yes, Captain. If you don’t mind me touching her.” 

“I told your ass what I needed, didn’t I?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Now get the hell outta here and let me fish in peace.”

“Alright, Captain. Shall I leave the umbrella for you?”

“Will you get outta here already? Your ugly face is gonna scare the fish away.”

“Yes, Captain.”

She turned and walked along the bank of the pond. He watched her back as she left. Her ponytail swayed back and forth under the umbrella like a pendulum. He scratched the itch where his goggles rubbed against the back of his head and took another long drag of his cigarette. When he sat down again there was no sight of the cork. 

Finally got one, he thought. He eagerly stood up as he reeled the line in. The weight on the line felt lighter and lighter and Cid felt less and less excited as he reeled. He saw the glint of a sunfish’s scales breaking the surface of the water. He landed the fish and held his cigarette tight between his lips as he held the line tight between his thumb and forefinger. The fish was smaller than the palm of Cid’s hand, not big enough to eat and not small enough for bait. It managed to catch itself while leaving the full bait intact on the hook. 

“You again," he said, removing the hook and tossing the pest back into the water. 

He turned to head back to his fishing camp and glanced up at the rocket from the bank. It towered over him. It creaked as though it had something to say. He sat back down in the shadow of the rocket, opened his lunchbox, and took out the sandwich Shera had prepared. He took a big bite of it with the pond water and fish slime and the smell of tobacco still on his hands. 


End file.
